11
If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breatb's in Afric's spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white;
Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charms of lovely Sue.
Though battle calls me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Susan moum;
Tho' cannons roar, yet safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.
The Boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread,
No longer must she stay on board;
They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head;
Her less'ning boat unwilling rows to land:
Adieu! sbe cries, and war'd her lily band.
A Rose-bud by my early walk.
A rose-bud by my early walk,
Adown a corn-inclosed bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning:
